


Once Upon A Deep Midwinter

by Nope



Category: Dark Is Rising Sequence - Susan Cooper
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-12-24
Updated: 2003-12-24
Packaged: 2018-10-23 14:09:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10720875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nope/pseuds/Nope
Summary: Five birthdays Will Stanton never had (maybe).





	Once Upon A Deep Midwinter

Midnight and Will, in the attic, slides his fingertips along the quartered circle, the wooden ornament smooth in his palm.

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Oldest now. Youngest, still. Last Old One this side of time. Alone on a Welsh hillside. Fat fog of snow. White curtain for the grave at his feet.

Takes out a package of white cloth. Unwraps the raven feather, woven through the quartered circle. Kneels. Places it against the stone. Brushes his fingers against letters. Whispers a name.

Stands. Looks up.

Says, to no one in particular, "Happy birthday, Will."

It hurts his throat. Loud. Too loud.

He sighs and turns in a swirl of blue robes.

A sound. High. Clear like a bell.

An empty hillside in the snow.

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Three a.m. and Will, blankets wrapped around him, stares out through the skylight at the thick clouds filling the sky. 

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Five around a table that once held eleven. Barbara and Mary gossiping. Will eats silently. His mother doesn't eat. The microwaved turkey is thin and dry. Afterwards, while the women watch static smeared repeats on the TV, Paul asks "Christmas blues?"

Will smiles weakly. "It's just-- Have you ever wondered if you missed something. A chance for better things?"

"It's not you. It's just been a bad year all round."

"A shadow on the land," mutters Will.

Paul shivers. "Come have pudding."

"Okay."

Alone, Will taps the plastic bell hanging above the back door. It makes no sound at all.

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Six in the morning and Will, head on his arms, hears his heart beat and sighs and opens his eyes. 

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It's winter but there are apples still on the trees and in the quiet silver-circled castle, the wood smoke is sweet and thick. Will's eyes water.

The white haired boy plays on the furs in front of the fire, laughs and tussles with hunting dogs almost as big as him over an old bone.

"Always on the outside," says Merriman, softly, sadly, his hand on Will's shoulder.

A chime announces the King. The boy runs to him and the King laughs and picks him up, spinning, the dogs happily barking.

Their flying shadows dance and fade into the fire's light.

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Eight o'clock and Will, stretched out on his back, closes his eyes and listens as the house wakes around him. 

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There's cranberries, chutney, spices, roast bird, potatoes, cauliflower, cabbage, crisp cooked sprouts, red wine and white; Simon pontificating to Father; Mother serving; Bran and Barney giggling knee to knee, thinking no one notices. Jane smiles and turns to say something to Gumerry, but he's looking away, eyes distant, and she thinks "Will" though she does not know why, and touches his sleeve.

He smiles, absently, and raises his glass in toast. "Absent friends."

"Absent friends," she nods and clinks her glass with his, and tries not to think about how old and thin and alone he looked in that moment.

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Noon and Will, in the kitchen, rubs his face, turns away from dining room conversation, opens the door, steps outside. 

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The snow settles on Will, melts under his collar. He looks back and can barely see the house. He touches the ornament on his belt, rook feather weaved through it. Turns around. Sees a dark shape. Almost yells except it speaks.

"Can I come in, then? Only it's snowing, see?"

"Hello, Bran," Will smiles and holds out his hand.

The wind takes the feather from him, sets it dancing, lost in the snow that falls, still falls, outside, far from the warmth of the fire, the twinkling lights of the tree and the ringing laughter of family and old friends.


End file.
